After one last serving of poutine, we hit the road. I expected the trip home would take longer because of the holiday, but traffic was surprisingly normal. However, we waited 1 hour and 40 minutes in line at the border.
That wasn't the worst of it. We handed the guard our passports and licenses. When she gave them back, we immediately noticed that she didn't give us back Paul's license. We told her this, but she claimed we never gave it to her.
We pulled over and searched the car, even though we knew we had given it to her. No luck finding it, of course. Paul politely approached the guard again, but she continued to claim she never saw it.
We couldn't do anything but continue our drive home and hope it would be found. And -- surprise, surprise -- it was. The second day of our return Paul called the lost and found at the border, it was there. We were relieved- not least of all because Paul wouldn't have to stand in the horrendous line to replace his license.
The drive was uneventful until we got to Manhattan and Brooklyn. It was late -- near 11 -- traffic was heavy, and I think we missed a turn. All in all, the trip home took something like 9 hours.
But, as I said, it could have been worse.
After Paul parked the car and turned off the ignition, we decided to move it back a few inches. But the car wouldn't start. We knew about this problem the week before, but Paul changed the battery and we thought it was fixed. No such luck.
It started fine the next morning. Aggravation!
Here's a few more Montreal photos for your viewing pleasure: